


It Isn't Love, It Isn't Hate

by oneoneandone



Series: Lover [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: I forgot that youSent me a clear messageTaught me some hard lessons
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Series: Lover [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982191
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	It Isn't Love, It Isn't Hate

The thing about an ex is that they’re supposed to fade away into sepia-toned nostalgia. They’re supposed to be a part of the past, the stuff you leave behind, forget to pack up in boxes when you take those next big steps, and the next, and the next. Memories falling away like fall leaves as time and distance slowly work their natural magics.

Except, of course, if the both of you just so happen to be counted among the elitest of the elite in your shared field.

Like, say, if you both were world-class athletes.

In the same sport.

In the same FIFA Confederation. 

And your national federations just kept scheduling matches against each other just to spite you.

—–

It’s late 2015, after the World Cup, and though Shirley isn’t quite an ex- yet, Tobin has finally realized that she’s about to be. 

It was the flowers. The final straw, really, that Tobin could’t let go. Someone else might have thought it was stupid, yes. Almost thirty years old and still so afraid. But old habits die hard, and Tobin has always been a stubborn old fool. 

She’d had to share a picture of the flowers–more than that, a picture of the flowers with the note visible. Just enough that the more enterprising of her fans could zoom in and make out the message. The small words there, her heart in black and white. 

Tobin had put thought into her girlfriend’s long-distance birthday gift, of course. More than just flowers and a note. She’d hunted and shopped, wrapped and shipped packages overseas. But she knew how things went from there, always subject to the whims of Customs officials and postal drivers.   
  
The flowers, see, they’d been a guarantee. Something Shirley would receive on her actual birthday to know that Tobin was thinking of her from afar. 

Except–

Except Shirley just had to share a picture of them all over her social media. And it wasn’t like Tobin didn’t understand the impulse–to show others that someone was thinking of you, that you were loved. 

So, no. It wasn’t the flowers. It was the note. The note in the picture. 

After months of increasingly frequent arguments about coming out, being public, why they couldn’t let the world into their lives just enough to know that they were someone to each other, it was the note in the picture when Tobin had always, always said no. Not yet. Not now. 

When Tobin saw the alert, when she opened the picture on her phone, she knew. 

It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t an oversight. 

It was a defiant statement that her girlfriend was done waiting. Was taking the next step herself. All on her own. Forcing them into a confrontation, forcing them out into the public eye. The last in a string of accidental almost-disclosures. 

The straw that broke Tobin’s resolve. 

The last she was willing to take. 

—–

The breakup had ended up being surprisingly easy, and eventually Tobin wondered if that had been the point of the whole event. Forcing her to take the next step, or to put an end to things for once and for all. 

Either way, it was simple and clean and maybe that said it all for both of them. 

—–

Of course, that might have had something to do with the warmth inside of Tobin’s chest that had been growing steadily, despite her attempts to tamp it down. A warmth that only burned brighter whenever Christen was around.   
  
It had happened gradually. They’d always been friendly, of course, over camps and their shared USSF duties. But the feelings that she’d been forcing herself to leave unacknowledged had been decidedly unfriendly for some time now. Since the long weeks of the World Cup in Canada at least. 

_Since far longer than that_ , the voice inside her chest whispered whenever she’d tried to bury them. Whenever she’d tried to remind herself of the girlfriend across the sea, waiting for her to want more. 

—–

So maybe it wasn’t as easy as Tobin had thought. 

Or maybe her ex had heard about Christen, the sweet first steps of a new relationship that already felt far deeper, far more meaningful, than anything she’d had with anyone else had ever. 

But that first match against Costa Rica after their break-up had been full of a kind of vicious, angry play that Tobin hadn’t really ever experienced before. The Costa Rican defenders seemed to take an extra special pleasure in tackling her hard to the turf, in taking her legs out from under her, sending her sprawling dangerously to the ground. 

All the while, Shirley had played around her, face a fierce mask. 

Somehow, even as she fumed internally, Tobin had managed to keep her temper in check. Enough to make it through the post-game line, hand out, eyes fiery and hard. 

Only for her ex-girlfriend to refuse to shake it when they met at midfield. 

—– 

It had been Chris who’d calmed her that night. Soothed away the anger of the match, and the hurt that Tobin hadn’t expected to feel. 

It had been Chris who’d wiped her eyes, and stroked her hair until the sobs had stopped, long after the Texan sunset had disappeared into the Western horizon. Chris who’d kissed her forehead softly, and then her cheeks, her jaw, her lips. 

“If it didn’t hurt,” she’d whispered, her gentle words a balm to Tobin’s soul, “it wouldn’t have meant anything. And it’s the things that mean something that make us who we are.”

She’d already been falling–falling hard and fast–but it was then, that perfect moment hidden together under a blanket on the balcony of a hotel room in Frisco that Tobin knew–this was the love that would mean everything. 

—–

It got easier. 

And easier. 

And easier. 

Every time they played Costa Rica, the hurt looks and sharp tackles came a little less often, a little less intense. 

Of course, it helped that she always had Christen right by her side. Fighting with her, for her. There to squeeze her hand as they lined up, to hug her close in the locker room, and kiss away the bruises in private after. 

And then–

Then it didn’t seem to matter at all any more. 

—–

It’s 2019, six games of seven into the World Cup, and Tobin has finally realized that none of it matters any more. 

All those years of being afraid–of what her family would think, her friends, her teammates.

It’s 2019 and the world is screaming for the woman she loves, arms and eyes up in the air as the stadium echoes her name up to the heavens and everything in Tobin’s heart just clicks right into place. 

She watches Christen from across the green, green field and she knows–

This is their moment. 

And she’s never been more ready. 

**Author's Note:**

> "I Forgot that You Existed," Taylor Swift


End file.
